


Three Mornings

by thievinghippo



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-01-09 14:11:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12278181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thievinghippo/pseuds/thievinghippo
Summary: Breakfast with Arcann quickly becomes one of Senya’s favorite rituals.





	1. Chapter One

Breakfast with Arcann quickly becomes one of Senya’s favorite rituals.

She sits down at an empty table - she almost always makes it to the cafeteria before him; her son is _not_ a morning person - and holds a mug of caf between her hands. It’s chilly this winter morning on Odessen. Enough that she wishes she thought to bring a shawl with her.

Across the cafeteria she can see Arcann standing in line with other Alliance personnel. He stares at his tray, not speaking to any of the people around him. No armor for him today; he must not have plans to train. Instead, he wears a simple grey tunic with a pair of trousers, no weapon to be seen.

No one looking at him would ever think he once was the most powerful man in the galaxy.

Seeing him like this, Senya can almost picture the man he could have been, the man he should have been, if not for Valkorian. She pushes the thoughts of her husband away, but not before wondering how the man who once sang her love songs could have been such a monster.

But this is not the time. One day, Senya knows, she will have to delve into her memories and accept she was complicit in her children’s training, even as she felt helpless against it all. That is for another day, though, and not today.

A few people nod as they pass her table, but no one moves to join her. Their routine is known by now and not everyone has been as welcoming to Arcann as the commander of the Alliance.

Senya understands - how can she not when her heart clenches as she thinks of those five planets ground to dust - but she still feels a mother’s hurt over the slights. Arcann, though, never makes a fuss, never demands to be included in anything. He’s simply accepted his fate and quietly works to make the galaxy a better place.

Maternal pride is a new concept to Senya, but she thinks she likes it.

A few minutes pass before Arcann joins her at the table. “Mother,” he says as he sits down. The word sounds a bit awkward off his tongue, even after the months they’ve spent at the Alliance base. Then again, the word still sounds a bit awkward to her ears.

“Arcann,” she says just as gravely. Unlike her son, she is a morning person and revels in the quiet around Odessen. It won’t be long before the cafeteria is full, with people rushing about, waiting to start their shifts. Now, at least, they can spend a few minutes together before they face their day.

They start eating in silence. Senya flips through possible conversation topics in her head, knowing she doesn’t want to push, doesn’t want Arcann feeling like he needs to answer questions. She’s tried that in the past, trying to learn more about her son, but he tends to hole up when that happens.

She thinks she might ask about a training exercise when she realizes that Arcann’s focus is no longer on his food, but on something - no, _someone_ \- else.

The commander of the Alliance, Eloisia Methra, the former Emperor’s Wrath - has entered the cafeteria. There’s no doubt the commander is a stunning woman, in spite of the red tattoos adorning her face. Her slight build can’t hide her obvious power; it’s always there, radiating off of her skin. And Arcann’s eyes seem to follow her every move.

Senya’s heart clenches when she looks at him. It’s clear on his face that his feelings for the commander of the Alliance are far beyond professional, far beyond friendship, even. She doesn’t know if it’s something to discuss with him; the line between parent and friend is in such an undisclosed location. But if not her, then who?

What’s the worst that could happen if she asks? Once, when she delved in a little too deep regarding Thexan, he stormed out of the cafeteria and didn’t show up for breakfast again for three days. Then he appeared at the table again as if nothing had happened.

She decides to try. “Eloisia is a lovely woman, isn’t she?” Senya asks, digging her spoon into her oatmeal a little too hard to be casual. And it’s true. Even in workout gear and her dark blonde hair in a messy bun, Eloisia is beautiful.

Arcann blinks rapidly a few times before answering slowly, “I think she’s lonely.”

Whatever response Senya expected from her gambit, that certainly wasn’t it. “Why do you think that?” she asks, genuinely curious.

One thing she knows about her son is that he’s perceptive. He’s able to read people and situations far more easily than she can. Senya wonders if it’s a natural instinct or if he’s been trained for that.

“I think she’s at a loss of who to trust,” Arcann says finally, his gaze going back towards Eloisia. “Since Umbara.”

“Understandably so,” Senya says. She knows she’s not one to judge; she did abandon the Alliance herself almost a year ago to save her son. It’s a decision Senya made without hesitation and would do again. She wonders if Theron’s decision was as easy. Selfishly, she hopes not. She hopes he agonized over the choice and regrets it every day.

Arcann finally tears away his eyes from the commander and concentrates on his food. “She’s still mourning Vette, too.”

“I had forgotten that she and Vette were friends,” Senya admits. She never had much occasion to speak to the twi’lek before Vaylin murdered her. But from what she remembered, she liked.

“Vette had been her companion for almost five years before I placed the commander in carbonite. You don’t just get over the death of a friend like that, especially when you’re the one responsible,” Arcann says quietly.

Senya looks at her son, trying to parse a hidden meaning behind the words. Could he be speaking of Thexan as well? Arcann killed his twin brother so long ago, she wonders if he still feels the sting. Based on the way his non-metal hand curls into a fist, she thinks he must.

“Have you spoken to the commander about this?” Senya asks, curious.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know how,” Arcann says and Senya hears the sadness in his voice. “And I doubt I’m the right person to say anything.”

“But you said you think she’s lonely,” Senya counters. “Who else will talk to her?”

It’s clear to Senya that Eloisia doesn’t have many people she considers to be friends. Of her previous companions, one is still missing and two are dead. Then there are ‘the majors.’ Major Quinn fawns over the commander but tends to treat her more as an ideal than a human being. Rumor says Eloisia once had a relationship with Major Pierce, a big, burly fellow who looks like he could crush her with one hand. If true, it must have ended poorly as the two barely speak now.

A silence settles over the table and Senya resigns herself to not receiving an answer. Perhaps that’s just as well. She’s not sure if she should encourage a friendship between Arcann and Eloisia or not. She tries to think of a friendship from Eloisia’s point of view. Would one want to be friends with a man that tried to kill you multiple times?

Senya thinks not, but she was raised a Knight of Zakuul, not Sith. From what she’s learned of Sith culture, attempted murder between friends is almost commonplace.

“You know how she walks the perimeter of the base at dusk?” Senya asks.

It’s a known tradition of the commander’s. A way to keep an eye out for issues and to talk to Alliance personnel. Plus, Odessen is at it’s best at dusk. There’s a raw beauty about the place during that time of night.

Arcann nods. “It’s the type of thing that I should have done when I was Emperor,” he says. “It would have been better than brooding in the throne room.”

Arcann chuckles weakly and Senya’s under the sneaking suspicion that he’s made a joke at his own expense, something unthinkable only a few months ago. It almost feels like a triumph, even more so when she catches his eye and he smiles.

“Occasionally people join her,” Senya says, hoping she doesn’t sound too obvious. “Perhaps you could join her at some point.”

The smile disappears from his face as he stares at his plate. “I would not… To presume…”

Before she can stop herself, Senya places her hand over his hand, feeling the coolness of the metal. “She needs a friend, Arcann,” she says, knowing that to be true. And what she says next is even more true. “You need a friend as well.”

His jaw clenches at her words, but she will not take them back. There aren’t many who would want to be friends with a former tyrant. Anyone willing to extend their hand in friendship to her son would need to be extraordinary.

Senya places her hands around her mug and settles back into her chair. _Like the commander_ , she thinks as she takes a sip of tea, watching the sun rise up into the sky.


	2. Chapter Two

She’s surprised to see him at their table one morning. Arcann’s been gone for almost two weeks, off to Copero with the commander and a small strike team, part of the hunt for Theron. Senya didn’t realize they were back.

They haven’t spoken much these past two week, except for one brief exchange when he messaged, asking if she remembered Vaylin’s pet canary from their childhood.

Senya does remember. She’ll remember every detail of Vaylin’s childhood until the day she dies.

Her mind lingers on Vaylin for a moment, thinking of the little girl who once was the center of her universe. Senya misses her. And while it’s not fair to Vaylin, she misses the woman her daughter should have become. The woman she might have been if only Senya could have found a way to protect her children without losing her own soul in the process.

But Senya looks at Arcann, at the one child she has left, and swears yet again that she will do right by him.

Her shawl falls off her shoulder as she sits down at the table. As she adjusts the shawl, she looks at her son, who doesn’t seem to really notice that Senya’s at the table; he seems engrossed in a holopad of some sort. He’s wearing his armor today and she sometimes wonder why he still chooses to don the ceremonial garb he wore as Emperor.

She wonders when she’ll feel comfortable enough to ask.

Senya clears her throat and Arcann looks up at once. “Mother,” he says, his voice quiet.

“Arcann,” she replies, as she always does. “Interesting reading?”

A quick flick of Arcann’s wrist clears the screen of the holopad. Shaking his head, he says, “Sobering, not interesting.”

“I thought we agreed no work at breakfast,” Senya says.

“It’s not work,” Arcann says, turning the holopad back on. His voice sounds heavier than she’s heard in some time and she wonders what could have caused the change.

Somehow Senya resists the temptation to ask him to open up, to ask him to tell her what it is that’s made him sad. But that’s motherhood. It’s is truly amazing. Two years ago, the thought of Arcann only brought her pain.

Now, his hurts are hers.

Arcann slides the holopad towards her. Accepting the invitation, Senya picks it up, wondering what in the galaxy her son could be reading.

“A Brief History of the Razion People,” she says out loud. She swipes to the next page and her heart stops. “They were from the planet Ywanne.”

One of the five planets that Arcann destroyed without hesitation, looking for the Outlander and the Alliance. The final total of lives lost between the five planets sickened her. Almost a hundred million lives gone in a blink of an eye.

“Why are you reading this?” she asks, her voice full of glass.

He takes the holopad from her hand almost gently, but doesn’t meet her eye. “These people are gone because of me. Because of decisions I made. The least I can do is learn about the people who I had killed.” His eyes close and he shakes his head. “No. No, I phrased that wrong. The people _I_ killed.”

“Will you be doing that for all five planets?” she asks quietly.

“Eventually,” Arcann says, his finger sliding down the side of the holopad. “The sheer number of cultures destroyed… It’s hard to think about sometimes.”

Senya tries to comprehend the magnitude of what he wants to do. Of trying to learn about what’s been lost. “It’s a lovely idea,” she says. And it is. To learn about the people he’s most likely trying to forget is brave.

“It wasn’t mine,” Arcann says, shaking his head. “When we were on our way back from Copero, I tried to strike up a conversation with the commander. So I asked her what she was reading. It was a book about a planet called Makeb.”

Senya furrows her brow. “I don’t recognize the name.”

“The Hutt Cartel tried to mine the planet for resources and the Imperial Empire sent the Emperor’s Wrath there to deal with things,” Arcann says. “I don’t know all the details, but she held the fate of the planet in her hands by the end.”

Senya’s stomach twists in a knot. She’s heard stories of the woman Eloisia used to be. The feared Emperor’s Wrath. A woman with no equal in skill of the dark side. It’s a far cry from the woman Senya now knows.

It took time for Senya to recognize the differences between the light and dark side of the Force. For so long, only allegiance to the Emperor mattered. She thinks back to when she first left Valkorian, after she realized that she would lose her soul if she stayed one second longer. At the time, Senya was sure she would lose her ability to wield the Force, as she no longer felt any sort of loyalty to her Emperor.

But she didn’t. The fact that the Force still flowed through her veins, even after her decision to leave was her first true step towards recovery.

As she started traveling the Outer Rim more, that’s when she discovered the light and dark. And just how easy it would be to turn towards the dark.

Senya recognized that darkness in Eloisia when they first met. But she also could feel the constant struggle in the young woman, grasping and clawing her way out of the dark to follow the light. Knowing just how much she worked every day to go against her dark nature and instead embrace the light is how Senya decided Eloisia was a leader worthy of the title.

“What happened to the planet?” Senya asks, though she thinks she already knows the answer.

“She refused to compromise with the Hutts and destroyed the planet. Twelve million people killed,” Arcann says. “Because of one decision.”

Her hands clench in front of her, not understanding the purpose of the story. “Why in the star’s name would she tell you that?”

“A clumsy attempt on her part to remind me that I’m not the only one with the blood on their hands,” Arcann says, his voice soft. “I… appreciated her effort.”

When put like that, the story makes sense. Almost might be considered comforting. If someone like Eloisia can change for the better, why can’t Arcann?

Senya decides to change the subject. “I’m glad you took my advice,” she says.

Arcann tilts his head and the move reminds her so much of his father that Senya splays her palm over the table, to center herself. She doesn’t see the resemblance often - all of their children took after her - but when she does, it still seems to shake her. She wonders if that will ever change. “What advice?” he asks.

“Trying to become friends with the commander,” Senya says pointedly. “You did say you tried to strike up a conversation, did you not?”

He nods as he interlaces his fingers together. “I’m going to join her on her walk around the base tonight,” he says and there’s almost a shyness in his voice. A shyness Senya’s never heard before.

“Good,” Senya says, as if she was giving her blessing. And perhaps that’s exactly what she’s doing. Arcann’s still clearly besotted with the commander. She’s not quiet as sure what Eloisia might feel. But if she’s willing to share such personal information to Acann? Maybe the two of them can find some sort of quiet happiness together. “Will you tell her the truth about your feelings?”

“Mother,” Arcann says with a hiss as his eyes go wide. He looks around quickly, as if he worries someone from another table might be listening to their conversation. No one is. No one ever is. The rest of the Alliance leaves their table alone. Like always.

“I’m just asking,” Senya says innocently.

Arcann rests his head in his hands and Senya wonders if this is what it would have been like when he was a teenager, asking about girls. Or boys, Senya suddenly remembers from court gossip back when Arcann was Emperor. “I don’t…” He looks up and right at Senya. “Just calling her a friend would be more than I deserve. Anything more than that is impossible.”

“Bullshit.”

Arcann’s jaw actually drops. Almost like a parody. Senya understands. She rarely swears, after all. “I beg your pardon?” he asks archly.

“Does the commander deserve happiness? Should she be able to look for a romantic partner?” Senya asks, already knowing what Arcann’s answer will be. So she holds up her hand. “The answer is yes, she does.”

“Of course she does,” Arcann says. “She works tirelessly to make this galaxy a better place, to atone for what she’s done in the past…” He stops suddenly and shakes his head. “I see what you’re trying to do. But it’s different for me.”

“I’d love to hear you explain the difference to me,” Senya says, leaning back in her chair as she crosses her arms over her chest. Somehow, she has a feeling that some tough love will be required here.

Arcann picks up his fork and starts pushing around his scrambled eggs. “I’ve thought about it. Of course I’ve thought about it,” he says quietly. “I don’t want to make her uncomfortable. And I can’t think of anything more uncomfortable than telling the man who’s tried to kill you several times that you’re not interested in him romantically.”

Oh. Well, when he puts it that way, Senya agrees with him. “That’s actually a very mature explanation,” she admits. She’s not quite willing to let this go, though. “But if she said something first…”

“Don’t you dare, Mother,” Arcann says. There’s no anger in his voice. Just pleading. “Please don’t.”

“I wouldn’t,” Senya says, which is the truth. She’s no desire to truly play matchmaker for her son and the commander. If it’s to happen, it will have to happen without her interference. “Well, I hope you two have a nice walk tonight.”

“So do I,” Arcann says. Without another word, the two of them start to eat their breakfast.


	3. Chapter Three

Senya digs her spoon into her oatmeal, wondering where Arcann might be. Most mornings, she’ll wait to start eating until he’s at the table but she expected him fifteen minutes ago.

But perhaps that’s to be understood. There’s a tension in the air, thanks to a new threat, the Order of Zildrog. Shoulders are hunched and fists are clenched. Even with Theron’s role explained, there’s still a sense of not being sure who can be trusted. For now, Senya will watch and listen.

She takes another bite, wishing she sprinkled a little more brown sugar on topl, but not enough to make her walk back to the kitchen area. It’s then when she sees Arcann, walking into the cafeteria, the commander walking in besides him. They stop and share a look, a look that hits Senya right in the stomach.

She remembers that look.

A private look between two lovers in public. Once upon a time, Senya lived for that look, for those times when she was on duty and Valkorian would glance in her direction. A look that had her counting the minutes until her shift was over so she could be waiting for him in his private residence. How he consumed every part of her soul back then.

But Valkorian is gone, never to return, and Senya’s soul is _hers._

Senya watches the commander walk over to Major Jorgan as Arcann grabs a tray. There’s no doubting something has made her son very, _very_ happy this morning.

It’s hard, but Senya concentrates on her oatmeal so that she doesn’t let her imagination get carried away. How long has it been since she was in love, anyway? She could absolutely be reading the situation wrong. Best to let Arcann join her at the table and then she can find out what happened.

More time passes than she likes - Arcann seems to take forever choosing a jam - but he eventually sits down at the table. “Mother,” he says as a way of greeting. It’s taken time, but the word almost sounds natural now, as if he has been saying that all his life.

“Arcann,” she says back, their ritual complete. Arcann looks ready to tear into his breakfast, but Senya has other plans. “You seem quite pleased with yourself this morning.”

He blushes.

He actually blushes and Senya’s heart is so full it’s ready to burst.

“I finally finished the chestpiece I was working on,” Arcann says.

Senya’s seen him at work at the armormech station here on Odessen. But she had absolutely no idea what he was actually working on. “You made a chestpiece?” she asks. She vaguely remembers hearing that some of Arcann and Thexan’s personal Knight protectors tried to teach them things, such as armormech. She never actually imagined that the lessons would stick after all these years.

“I did,” Arcann says with a nod. “I find myself with an abundance of free time these days. Armormeching seemed like a good way to pass the time. And… And I thought that a chestpiece might be a good gift to give to the commander.”

“That’s a lovely thought,” Senya says. She chooses not to point out the obvious, that the commander hardly ever wears actual armor, instead wearing leather or robes. “So I assume you gave her the chestpiece?”

There. That secret smile again, this time it’s a smile for himself. “Yesterday afternoon,” he says. “I only wanted to thank her for everything she’s done for me but then she… She…”

Apparently Senya’s going to have to drag out these answers. She’s trying to picture the meeting in her head. Arcann, no doubt would be nervous, but refusing to call it that. Maybe he stammered or didn’t look her in the eye. “What did she do?” she asks quietly, trying not to put any pressure on her son. She’s thrilled that he’s sharing anything at all with her. The last thing she wants is for him to retreat into his shell.

“She told me she cares about me,” he says, meeting her eye. The secret smile’s expanded to a real one, one Senya will never be able to see enough of. “As cliche as this sounds, it was like being in a dream. I had tried not to even let myself hope, and to hear those words…”

“What happened then?” Senya asks, her hands under her thighs in an attempt to keep still. Her oatmeal grows cold in front of her, but this conversation is far more important than breakfast.

“I couldn’t stop talking,” Arcann says with a small chuckle. “I told her how much I admire her and that ultimately, I want to be someone she deserves.”

Another memory, but this time she remembers a time when she said those exact same words to Valkorian, the morning after their first night together. She can remember Valkorian’s answer so clearly. _I decide what I deserve._

But that’s not the right answer here, not now. “That’s a lovely ideal to live up to,” Senya says.

“It will keep me grounded,” Arcann says. “Then once I was sure she would welcome it, I kissed her.” He looks away and there’s that blush again. “We spent most of the evening in her personal ship, talking. And then…”

Senya holds up her hands. “Arcann, truly, I don’t need to hear any details. I’m just so pleased you’re happy.”

Arcann cringes. “No, that’s not… That’s not what I meant. I was just going to say that then she kissed _me._ _”_ He meets her eyes and his cheeks are red. “I’ve never been kissed before. It was… It was most welcome.”

Senya tilts her head, confused. “When you were Emperor and even before that, I did my best not to listen to court gossip,” she says, feeling slightly embarrassed. “Even so, I heard things. So I have a very hard time believing that.”

Arcann waves his hand. “Before the mask, I kissed plenty of people,” he says. “But that’s the difference. _I_ kissed them. No one ever reached out to kiss me. Until yesterday.”

His lip quirks up in a sort of smile and Senya can tell from the look on his face that he’s reliving some pleasant memories. Nothing a mother needs to hear, she’s sure, so Senya decides to change the subject. “So you two are…” She lets the sentence trail off.

“Together,” he says at one. He lowers his voice then. “But we’ve decided to keep things quiet for now.”

Senya’s heart clenches at the news. She knows their relationship might cause some strife in the Alliance, but they shouldn’t feel like they have to keep secrets. “Should we be talking about this here, then?” she asks.

“We’re not pretending that we aren’t together, Mother,” Arcann says and Senya immediately sighs in relief. Secrets have costs, and that’s not one she would want Arcann to pay. That she’d want either one of them to pay. “I told her we could if she wanted, but she said she didn’t want to lie. We’re not going to be out holding hands in public or anything like that, though. That’s what Eloisia thinks is best.”

The way Arcann says Eloisia’s name is just how she once said Valkorian’s. Reverent and quiet and hardly daring to believe their luck, as if everything could disappear in an instant. The relationships are so different though. Senya never had a chance to be Valkorian’s equal and as far as she’s concerned, Arcann already is the commander’s.

Their story will have a much different ending than hers.

“I’m so pleased for you, Arcann,” Senya says and every word is made from the truth. Her son has found love. What more can a mother wish?

“Thank you,” Arcann says. “I keep telling myself it’s not a dream. But it’s not. It’s real.”

A silence settles over the table as Arcann starts to eat his breakfast. Senya has no interest in the rest of her oatmeal, so she picks up the orange and starts to peel it carefully, wondering how she could focus on something as mundane as breakfast in light to Arcann’s news.

“May I join you?”

Senya and Arcann both look up at once.

Eloisia stands at the end of the table, holding a tray. She sounds slightly uncertain, as she’s unsure if she’ll be welcomed or not. Senya understands, after all, her breakfast with Arcann has practically become a tradition.

Arcann looks not at Eloisia, but at Senya. She smiles, knowing that he’s leaving the choice up to her. There’s something to be said for tradition, Senya thinks. However, there’s something far more satisfying in forging a new path.

“Please,” Senya says, offering the seat next to her, the seat where Eloisia and Arcann can look at each other as much as they want. As far as Senya’s concerned, Eloisia is now family. And family will always be welcome at her table. “Please join us.”

The commander sits.

And a new tradition forms.


End file.
